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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765034">Martha's Fine and Francis Frets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estrella3791/pseuds/Estrella3791'>Estrella3791</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mr. Right (2015 Cabezas)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Francis is Concerned, Hospitals, Hurt, Martha gets beat up by unnamed bad guy, No Plot, just chaos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:54:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,273</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estrella3791/pseuds/Estrella3791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Martha gets beat up. (Offscreen.) Francis worries a lot. (Onscreen.) Martha's fine but they have a new target. (Onfscreen.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Francis/Martha McKay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Martha's Fine and Francis Frets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>What's that you say? A story?<br/>No, no. This is a scattered collection of words that I threw together at 3AM last night because I rewatched this movie instead of writing a paper.<br/>Although it might be cute and fun. I don't know.<br/>There's swearing, and blood. Other medical stuff. I don't know a lot about medical stuff so please pardon the errors.<br/>Enjoy, and I apologize.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The front door does the rattle-rattle-concerning clank it always does when it’s opened, and Francis smiles. It’s an involuntary reflex at this point. He’s in love, what can he say?</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, sweetheart.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, baby.”</p><p> </p><p>Francis looks up and promptly drops his phone. He’s up off the couch in half a second.</p><p> </p><p>“What have you <em> done </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” grumbles Martha, swatting at his reaching hand and making to move past him. </p><p> </p><p>“No, you’re not,” he says, grabbing her wrist and guiding her down onto a chair. He reaches for the Kleenex box on the coffee table and begins tentatively dabbing at her face. “The fuck did you <em> do </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>She waves her arm around, uncoordinated. Francis checks her pupils. </p><p> </p><p><em> Shit, shit, shit </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Honey,” he says, “you need to be in the emergency room.”</p><p> </p><p>“Noooo,” she whines, hissing when the Kleenex sticks to a particularly sticky spot. He winces in sympathy and stops dabbing. “Don’t wanna.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not?” he asks absently, scanning the room for his wallet. He left it — ah, on his desk. </p><p> </p><p>“Because that guy might still be out there,” says Martha, and if <em> that </em> doesn’t capture his attention.</p><p> </p><p>“What guy?” he demands, scanning the room again. The curtains are drawn, as is their wont. He and Martha don’t exactly want to be accessible. “The guy that did this to you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” says Martha, and giggles a little. “He had a flower tattoo. It looked stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>Wheels are spinning in Francis’ head. Martha needs help — <em> real </em> help, not the slapdash-bandage-kiss-it-better kind he can provide — but leaving the building if there’s an unknown hostile out there is beyond risky, especially with Martha out of commission.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck, this is not ideal, nor is it what he wanted from this evening.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he says. At least she’s got her short term memory, that’s good. “Okay,” he says again, as if it’ll give him an idea. “I’m going to go get some better towels so we can apply some pressure.”</p><p> </p><p>Martha whines again.</p><p> </p><p>“That <em> hurts </em>,” she says. </p><p> </p><p>“I know, babe,” he says, trying to sound sympathetic while also coming up with a half-decent plan. “But it’s gotta happen. You know that.”</p><p> </p><p>She makes a grumpy sound. She does, in fact, know it. Doesn’t make it suck any less. He knows from experience.</p><p> </p><p>“Anything else you noticed about this guy?” he calls from the kitchen, rooting through their drawers. He <em> knows </em> he saw the black ones with the kittens the other — ah, there they are. “Other than his stupid flower tattoo?”</p><p> </p><p>Martha thinks loudly.</p><p> </p><p>“Blond hair,” she says. “Brown eyes, I think. Skinny. He moved fast.”</p><p> </p><p>“I would think so,” huffs Francis, carefully pressing one of the dish towels onto one of the larger cuts. “Takes a lot for someone to get the drop on my girl.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ooooh, the kittens!” says Martha. She’s starting to slur. This is <em> not good </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” says Francis, making an executive decision. “I’m calling Sophie.”</p><p> </p><p>“This one has <em> yarn </em>,” gasps Martha, utterly preoccupied with the kittens on the fabric. </p><p> </p><p>Francis is very, very worried. Martha <em> hates </em> it when he calls Sophie. She feels like it’s admitting weakness. She’s ridiculous. He loves her. </p><p> </p><p>He dials Sophie’s number with shaking fingers and asks for an extraction. Sophie, tense and worried as she always is when he makes this request, says she’ll be ten minutes.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, darling,” says Francis. “Hat time.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a back door to every building they live in, but they’ve been away from New Orleans so long that Francis had, stupidly, thought they might not need it. </p><p> </p><p>Ah, well, he thinks as he bundles Martha into a hat and scarf and sunglasses, hating the fact that the fabric is probably horrible for her wounds but necessary to keep her somewhat incognito, that’s what he loves about his life with her. The unpredictability. </p><p> </p><p>He just loves it more when he’s not concerned about concussions and potentially even more brain damage. </p><p> </p><p>Sophie shows up, because she’s chronically angry with both of them but cares about Martha enough not to leave them in the lurch, and between her and Francis they get Martha into the backseat of her car. </p><p> </p><p>Francis grabs his bike (an impulsive purchase, but he hasn’t once regretted it) and tails them, because someone beat up his girlfriend and it’s not happening again if he can help it. </p><p> </p><p>(Steve calls him ‘overbearing.’ He prefers to think of himself as ‘protective.’ Martha agrees with both of them.) </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The wait at the hospital is long and white and sterile and he hates every second of it. </p><p> </p><p>Sophie stays until he starts doing a jittery tap routine and then she leaves, promising that she’ll return if they need her, unless she has to spend one-on-one time with Francis.</p><p> </p><p>She hasn’t gotten over the “you kill people and also you threatened to shoot me in the armpit and also you literally locked me in a closet” thing yet. Francis hasn’t lost all hope, though.</p><p> </p><p>Besides, who really cares if his girlfriend’s friend doesn’t like him?</p><p> </p><p>(Francis. Francis cares.)</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, they tell him he can see Martha. He follows the nurse down the hall, taking note of potential exit routes on the way. It never hurts to be prepared. </p><p> </p><p>“Babyyy!” says Martha, reaching for him.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, darling,” he says, taking her hand and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. “How ya feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>“Really, <em> really </em> good,” she tells him seriously. “I’m high as fuck on pain meds, aren’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>“And then a little higher,” he agrees, “but it’s better than you hurting.”</p><p> </p><p>She nods. </p><p> </p><p>“That guy really messed me up,” she says. “He broke a rib.”</p><p> </p><p>“He broke a rib?” Francis repeats, seething inwardly. (Okay, maybe he’s a <em> little </em> overbearing. But he <em> loves </em> her, okay?) “What a jerk.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> know </em>,” she says, settling back against the crisp white pillows. “And I don’t even know why he was coming after me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me neither,” says Francis honestly. He doesn’t, and it’s been bothering him. Normally when one of them gets attacked they have at least a vague idea of <em> why </em>. He doesn’t like it that someone came out of nowhere and beat up his girlfriend. </p><p> </p><p>“We gotta figure that shit out,” says Martha, narrowing her eyes in the way she does when she’s focusing. “I don’t want anyone thinking they can break a rib and give me a concussion and walk away.”</p><p> </p><p>“They can’t,” says Francis reassuringly, “but <em> you </em> can’t do anything about it until you heal up, right?”</p><p> </p><p>She glowers at him.</p><p> </p><p>“C’mon, monsta,” he says cajolingly. “You know it makes me happy when you take care of yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“I do know that,” she admits.</p><p> </p><p>“And you know it makes me happy when we go kill guys that tried to kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know that, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“And we can’t go kill this guy until you’re not concussed anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>She sighs and kicks until the blankets expose her feet. He bites his tongue to keep from admonishing her not to jostle herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” she says, pouting. “But it <em> sucks </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“It does suck,” Francis agrees. “But I’ll be here the whole time. We can watch Jurassic Park.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” she says. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he says, relieved. He hates making Martha do things she doesn’t want to do almost as much as he hates her being hurt, but in this case it could be literally life or death. </p><p> </p><p>It’ll be a while before they can go hunt the guy down. Months, probably, judging by the way she winces when she so much as breathes. But in the meantime they can snuggle and eat dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and she’s <em> alive </em>, which, man, he doesn’t always appreciate that as much as he should. </p><p> </p><p>So everything’s all right. </p>
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